Ex-Husband’s Regret by Evelyn M.M

Chapter 0490

Mia's words still continued to ring in my head even as I headed for my car. The truth had been brutal. It wasn't easy to swallow the bitter pill, but swallow it I must.

Instead of peeling out of the parking lot like I usually do, I just sit in my car and allow the tears to fall. I couldn't stop them even if I wanted to. The space fills with the sounds of my cries. My sobs are torn from deep within as the weight of all my actions crash me.

My head falls against the steering wheel because I can no longer hold it up. I wore my shame like a second skin. It was embedded deep inside me like a fucking tattoo.

Why did I let it get that far? Why did I hurt him like that? Why did I allow my selfishness to taint the bond I could have had with Gunner?

Why. Why. Why?

If I knew one day I would long to hold Gunner in my arms. To be in his life. To have him call me mom. I would have held on to him like he was a lifeline... But that's the thing about hindsight. It's a bitch.

My lips tremble as I sob. Guilt racks my body, jolting me as if I've been electrocuted. I want to scream. I want to hit something. I want to curl up in a ball and just die. It hurts. It fucking hurts and I don't know how to stop the pain.

is empty. I'm not sure

eyes out for the last couple of minutes. Hell, it's hours, given I've

when you've messed up so badly? Where do I even begin? It would be easier if it had been a couple of months' worth of damage to fix, but it's years. Years worth of

first day of school. His first time saying mommy.

of all the things I could have done. Thinking of how I could have handled things differently. I regret a lot of things, but my biggest regret is how cruel I was to Gunner. He didn't deserve to be scorned by his

ride is a blur, but thankfully I don't get into any trouble. I was so lost in

me feels like there isn't hope. That I should give up on my relationship with Gunner. That it's too late

the front of the house and park. Getting out, I

back earlier than I expected," mom's

dear life. I'm past thirty years old, but at this moment, I feel like a little girl who needs her mommy to make things right

easy"

tighter. I thought that my tears had finally dried, but I was wrong. Once again, they begin pouring, drenching my mom's

away from her before guiding me to the couch. Once there, she pushes us down on it, before pulling my head down. I ball up in a fetal